20 JANUARY 2019, 18:46

SHEFFIELD

GRAHAM'S HOUSE

"How was the case?" Ryan asked.

"Gross and bizarre," Yaz responded, shutting the door behind her. "The Doctor's still over there with the intern, trying to figure things out."

"Your eye?"

Yaz held up a pharmacy bag. "Just a minor bacterial infection. I'm on antibiotics for the next week-and-a-half." She frowned, placing it on the table. "What was it you wanted to talk about?"

"The Doctor," Ryan responded. "Have you noticed anything weird going on with her? Like if she's been sicker than she's been letting on?"

"She was hallucinating a little bit, but that's probably a psychological effect of what the Angel did to her," Yaz admitted.

"She randomly said 'seven' when looking at the cost for lunch the other day," Ryan said. "The total had no sevens in it. She denied it, but I wasn't the only one who heard it."

"And she said 'eight' in the car on the way to the ladies' night," Yaz added. "Also tried to deny it. It's like she's counting down from something. But the countdown is hidden in subtle ways from us."

"From ten, maybe?" Ryan asked. "You remember how quickly she responded to you holding up all of your fingers, right?"

"Yeah," Yaz confirmed. "And, when she switched over to German the day after, she told me that she had thought one thing in English but what if we all misinterpreted that remark as German? Not nein as in 'no', but nine as in the number."

Shoot. No wonder we didn't see it. "Damn, she's clever."

"One number a day," Yaz pointed out. "Ten, nine, eight, seven. Assuming she'd said 'six' at a random point today, it would be 'five' tomorrow."

It was then that Ryan recalled the conversation he'd had with the Doctor before their order number had come up for lunch.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven," she had counted. "One number a day. Tomorrow it's probably gonna be six."

"A countdown?" Ryan had asked, though he knew the answer was obviously "yes." "Why though?"

The alien's lip curled. "I have a theory, but I really don't like it."

"That bad?"

"Worse."

Ryan frowned. "What if you're right?"

There was a dangerous glint in her right eye. "Then things are really going to get ugly."

Ryan folded his arms. "So what is it that you're thinking?"

The Doctor had never provided him an answer, so it was very possible that she knew something was up but was trying to stay strong for her companions.

"She knew," Ryan told Yaz.

"What?"

"She knew about the possibility of a countdown going on. She told me so at lunch that day." He sighed. "From the sound of it, she also had a feeling that something was going to happen when she reached zero."

"Nothing good, I take it?"

"Pretty much," Ryan admitted.

Yaz put her head in her hands. "Dammit, Doctor," she whispered. She looked directly at Ryan. "We really need to keep an eye on her."

21 JANUARY 2019, 15:52

SHEFFIELD

GRAHAM'S HOUSE

"Anyone want tea?" the Doctor asked.

Ryan shook his head. "I'll take a cuppa," Yaz told her.

The Time Lord nodded, satisfied. "Brilliant."

She went into the kitchen, grabbing three mugs out of the cabinet. "I thought Graham would be here," she remarked.

"He had work," Ryan said.

The Doctor frowned. "I thought he was retired."

"One of his bus driver friends asked him to cover his shifts while he's on holiday," Ryan explained.

"Ah." She put the kettle on the stove, whistling part of the melody line from Beethoven's Ode to Joy.

"Is your neck any better?" Ryan asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah," the Doctor responded. "It's just about healed."

"I can't say the same about my eye, though," Yaz complained.

"It's just a minor infection," Ryan retorted. "You'll be fine."

Yaz groaned. "This is so annoying."

"How do you think I've been feeling the past few days?" the Doctor countered, though not unsympathetically. "Still. It could be worse."

"Please don't wish that on me, Doctor."

"Or me," Ryan added.

The Doctor walked out of the kitchen, laughing sardonically. "Ok, five."

Both their eyes widened. "Doctor?" Ryan asked, concerned.

The smile faded from the Time Lord's face. "What?"

"What did you say just now?" he asked.

"Fine," she responded, not thinking anything of it.

"No," Yaz retorted. "You said five. F-I-V-E. You heard it too, didn't you, Ryan?"

"Yeah," he confirmed. "I did." He met the Doctor's gaze, screaming a second later. He panted. "Please tell me I did not just see what I think I saw."

Yaz walked up, looking the Doctor in the eye, just for a second, also recoiling. "I think I saw it too, Ryan."

The Doctor's eyes narrowed. "What?" The tone in her voice became darker. "This isn't funny, fam."

"Damn right it isn't," Yaz said seriously. "Have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately?"

The Doctor took a step backwards. "What are you getting at? I'm fine! Fine!"

Both of the younger members of Team TARDIS looked at each other before redirecting their gaze to the Doctor. Their response was one in unison: "Bullshit."

The Doctor groaned. "All right. I'll go take a look."

She walked up the stairs, shutting herself inside the bathroom. In the mirror, her reflection was there.

"But what did they see?" she mused. "What was it that scared the crap out of both of them?" She let out a soft "hmmm". "What is it that I'm not seeing?"

The Doctor looked at her own reflection. So far nothi—

Wait. Scratch that. The Doctor froze, seeing a strange image in her eye. She blinked, wondering if it was a trick of the lighting, but, no, it was still there.

"What the hell?" she whispered, leaning closer into the mirror. The image in her eye became clearer.

The image of a Weeping Angel.

The scream was out before the Doctor could stop herself from panicking.

21 JANUARY 2019, 15:57

Yaz removed the kettle from the stove, pouring its contents into the mugs. She handed one of them to Ryan, sitting down at the table. "That was pretty bizarre, wasn't it?" she remarked.

"Bizarre doesn't even begin to cover it," Ryan muttered shakily.

"Still spooked?"

"Yeah." He sighed, shaking his head. "The Doctor's been gone for a few minutes now. Do you think she's found it yet?"

"Not likely," Yaz guessed.

Ryan folded his arms. "What was a Weeping Angel doing in her eye, anyway?"

"I don't know," Yaz said darkly. "Two cases I was investigating this week had the same detail. Now it's three people, all with that image in their eyes. And two of them dead? That can't be a coincidence."

"Do you think it's something to worry about?" Ryan asked.

Yaz scoffed. "Come on, Ryan. It's just a picture. What harm can a picture do?"

"Dorian Gray," he offered.

"That's just a story, though."

He shrugged. "Do you have any better ideas?"

Yaz shook her head. The sound of footsteps momentarily distracted the young Constable. Her head perked up, expecting the Doctor, but instead it was Graham.

"I'm home!" he announced.

"I can see that," Ryan responded, walking over to hug him. His step-grandfather returned the embrace, the two letting go after a brief couple of seconds. "Hello, Yaz," Graham acknowledged.

"Hi," she responded.

"How were the routes?" Ryan asked.

Graham shrugged. "Busy as usual. Traffic wasn't as—"

A bone-chilling scream caused Yaz to jump in her chair. One look at the others told her that they had been spooked as well.

"What the hell was that?" Graham asked.

Yaz face-palmed. "Sounds like she found it."

"Sounds like who found what?"

"The Doctor," Ryan explained. "There was something in her eye."

Graham raised an eyebrow. "That's nothing to scream her head off about."

The sound of a figure walking down the stairs silenced the three of them. They turned, seeing the Doctor, hair skewed all over the place, her normally bubbly demeanor now haunted. Her face was as white as a ghost.

"Doc?" Graham asked cautiously. "You okay?"

The Doctor didn't respond, instead waving her sonic screwdriver over the three of them. She glanced down at it each time, sighing with relief at the end. "Thank goodness. You're not infected."

"Infected?" Ryan asked sharply. "What?" He walked towards her, but the Doctor recoiled, closing her eyes. Yaz noticed it took some effort for her friend to do so. "Don't go anywhere near me," she warned, voice wavering slightly.

"Doctor?" Yaz asked. "What's wrong? Please, tell us!"

She sighed. "I made a terrible mistake. I've been infected."

"Infected?! By what? Is it contagious?"

"Not contagious," the Doctor whispered. "Please. I need some space to think." With her eyes still closed, she walked inside the TARDIS, the door locking behind her.

The three humans looked at each other, alarmed. They walked towards the TARDIS, knocking on the door.

No response.

"Okay," Graham said slowly. "Now what?"

"I want a second opinion," Yaz said sharply.

"She said she doesn't want to go to A&E, remember?" Ryan pointed out.

"I know we can't take her there," Yaz retorted. "I need to talk to my boss."

"Why your boss?" Graham asked.

"This could be related to a string of weird cases I've been investigating," Yaz responded.

"And what if it isn't? What if it's a plague or something?"

"The Doctor clearly seemed to know what it was," Ryan added.

"Yeah, and she's not giving us crap."

"Either way," Yaz interrupted them stiffly, "I need to know."

"Do you want a lift?" Graham asked.

"I'm fine with taking the four-fifteen over," Yaz declined. "I just need some air, that's all."

And some space from the two of you overthinking the situation.

"Call if you find anything."

Yaz nodded, grabbing her uniform. The walk to the bus stop was uncomfortably quiet as the Constable's anxiety increased. Her thoughts raced as she waited for the bus to take her to the precinct.

Max counted down from ten. One number per minute. By the end of the day, he was dead.

The coroner also counted down from ten, at the same rate. Ten minutes later, he was dead.

What's going to happen to the Doctor?

She closed her eyes, exhaling sharply. Stop it. She's going to be fine. She has to be.

She HAS to be.

The bus pulled up to the stop. Yaz activated the bus pass on her phone, entering the vehicle as quickly as she could. Once inside, she pulled up Spotify, hoping to take her mind off of the situation for the time being.

Yaz smiled slightly, listening to Aretha Franklin. After one song, she took out her earbuds, knowing that it wouldn't be long before her stop was called. Her smile faded.

"You good, love?"

Yaz looked down, seeing an elderly woman on a seat near where she was standing. "Yeah," she said quietly. "I'm just worried about a friend, that's all."

Yaz's stop was called, saving her from further conversation. She bolted into the precinct building, almost colliding with her boss.

"Yaz! God, you're here early," he remarked, startled. "You know you can't just run in here like a bat out of hell—"

"I need to talk to you, sir. It's urgent."